


Six Weeks.

by Justley



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gay Bar, M/M, Mutual Pining, Promiscuity, Sexual Content, Swearing, and SMUT, becasue.....well do I have to have a reason?, lots of it because I like the F word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7698973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justley/pseuds/Justley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl is a mechanic who's been frequenting a downtown gay bar in Atlanta. He's used to picking up different boys and men taking them home,  having a wild night of sex and leaving at first light. But six weeks ago he hooked up with a long haired guy who goes by the name of Jesus and he's thinking that this time he's gonna have to break his own rules and go back for seconds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Six weeks

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is pretty much complete just one or two chapters left to write.
> 
> Can't promise a posting schedule but as I'm impatient it won't be long between chapters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn't know why he's here sitting on the same fucking bar stool for the sixth week in a row with no intentions of finding a pretty boy to drag home.
> 
> Except he does. 
> 
> Because now, after that one night, after a lifetime of never going back for seconds, he thinks there might only be one pretty boy that he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is an idea I had the other night. I just wanted to do a AU with no apocolypse and these two in it. 
> 
> As always I appreciate reviews so let me know if you like it!
> 
> There's lots of dirty thoughts, swear words and Daryl is a little sex machine. 
> 
> Because I love the idea of Dixon being a sex machine. Because I'm trash.

"He ain't here yet man." The bartender says as he hands over the mans regular jack and coke before he's even asked, sliding the glass across the counter to the end of the bar where the rough, quiet man usually sits and is greeted with a singular grunt in response. 

He doesn't know why the fuck he's here again, has no idea why he's wasting yet another Friday night propping up the corner of a dingy, low key gay bar in downtown Atlanta. Except he does. He really does but he ain't gonna admit it, specially not to this prick. 

"Jus keep em comin' Martinez." He growls at the bartender and watches as he finishes up restocking the fridges and he's definitely not checking out the guys ass as he bends down to reach a lower shelf, even though he knows Martinez is pointing it his way on purpose. 

"Pft" he snorts out before taking the first swig of the drink that's already making a puddle of condensation on the dark oak surface. Been there, ain't interested in a repeat show that's for sure. And that's the thing, Daryl Dixon doesn't do seconds. Doesn't do repeats. Never stays. Isn't interested in a relationship, isn't interested in anything more than a night of roaming hands and sweaty bodies. 

But he's here again. And he's waiting again, hoping that this time things might go a little differently and he's been doing this for six weeks now. Sitting in the same seat, drinking the same drink, waiting for the same scene to be played out, each time hoping it'll end differently, end the way he wants it to. 

It's not as if he doesn't get any interest, he does. They seem drawn to his hulking frame hunched low over his drink, the broad expanse of his leather clad shoulders act like a beacon to a multitude of boys hoping for a chance to be dragged through the back door and fucked harshly against the stark brick wall in the darkened alleyway, thinking they might be the one person able to change his seemingly permanent scowl into a glittering smile, to soften his narrowed piercing eyes into lust filled orbs. And he's not sure that's even possible anymore. 

It's not like he's a stranger here, wasn't even before he embarked on his sad Friday night routine, though he definitely wouldn't ever have been considered a regular. He'd rock up maybe once or twice a month, get buzzed and end up leaving with whatever guy took his fancy for the night. He didn't have a type, he liked them all, young and lithe with swaying hips, older and rough with beards and tattoos, suits, leather, skin tight jeans he didn't care. He took home whoever caught his eye, whoever he thought might give him the wild ride he so needed and he never had a problem finding someone to leave with. 

But that was before and it's been six weeks now since he last left through the front door at closing time hand In hand with his nightly conquest, six weeks since he got his rocks off with another guy, six weeks since he officially became a regular. 

"You gonna finally put these guys out of their misery and take someone home tonight Dixon?" Martinez asks when there's a lull in customers, the bar is beginning to fill up, the noise level rising with every new body that walks through the door, they sit at tables, mingle round the bar and already begin to creep into dark corners. The music level rises to counter the incessant hum of voices, It makes it harder to hear and that's why Martinez is bending over the counter, leaning on his elbows about as close to Daryl as he can get without touching. Nothing to do with his bunching arm muscles as his fingers flex around his glass or the way his lips suck in and out of his mouth as he worries at the skin with his teeth. Nothing at all to do with how hard Daryl made the guy come without even placing a hand on his dick. 

"Fuck off Martinez." He growled hoping in a small way that he'd offend the guy so he could be left alone to nurse his drink in peace. But he's out of luck because Martinez is used to his cutting tone and the way he issues swear words as easily as he draws breath. So the guy just clutches at his chest in mock distress, a fake look of hurt across his face and moves off to serve the new guy who's just pulled up a stool to Daryl's right. 

"I'll have whatever he's having." Daryl hears the seductive tone and the hint of a southern twang, smells the sweet scent of cologne before he turns to glance at the guy encroaching on his personal space. He's hot, really fucking hot in fact. The guy is lean but Daryl can tell he's ripped under his close fitting navy blue button up with sleeves rolled back to reveal strong forearms, black jeans that look like they've been painted on and his thighs, Daryl could just imagine having those perfect muscular thighs wrapped around his hips as they fucked through the night, the man writhing underneath him screaming out his name as he comes and he's getting hard at he thought. He lets his eyes travel up to the guys face slowly, taking in every detail, storing it away to revisit later, this one would make great jerk off material. He looked into striking blue eyes on a face covered in salt and pepper scruff, framed by unruly brown curls and lips that would look just perfect wrapped around his cock. 

"Rick Grimes." The guy holds his hand out for Daryl to shake but he doesn't. He just leaves the guy hanging and glares at him until he drops it back down onto the bar. 

"Ain't interested" Daryl grunts. He is, he really fucking is, he could bust out of this joint right now dragging this Rick Grimes behind him and he'd leave in the morning stiff and sore but satisfied, the lingering scent of Rick's cologne, sweat and come covering his skin. 

"Don't take it personally," Martinez addresses Rick as he hands him his own jack and coke earning an annoyed scowl from Daryl. "Dixon here has got eyes for one guy only tonight." 

"Ain't that a shame" Rick sighed as Martinez nodded his agreement. He turned back to Daryl, leaning in close and licking his lips in a move he had to know looked sexy as hell and said "Come find me if you change your mind Dixon." Before pushing off from the bar and heading out into the throng weaving his way through the mass of bodies and Daryl kicked himself as he watched the sexiest bowed legs and tight ass walk away from him. 

"Thought I already told ya to fuck off?" He slung at the bartender again before tapping his glass indicating he was ready for another. 

"Damn you really gonna let that one go?" Martinez asked his own eyes still tracking Rick moving through the crowd "you got it bad man." 

Yeah he does. Cos he's here again ain't he? And he's just turned down one of the hottest guys he's met in a long ass time for what? A night of watching, waiting and leaving empty handed? 

"Headin out fer a smoke." He mutters as Martinez hands him another glass. He knows the bartender will make sure no one takes his seat or slips anything into his drink while he does. He takes the back door out to the alley and leans his back against the rough brick wall as he lights up and sucks in a deep lung full. He's already feeling slightly buzzed after only a couple of drinks and thinks he really should've eaten something more than a stale tasting granola bar Carol thrust at him as he passed her flat on the way to the garage this morning but they'd been rushed off their feet again today, he'd had no time to grab lunch, worked late and chose a shower over dinner, not wanting to waste time before coming here for a drink. 

He raised his knee and rested the flat of his foot against the wall behind him at the same time he allowed his head to lean back against the cool brick and eyes to look up at the night sky, stars obscured by cloud and drowned out by Atlanta's light pollution. For a moment he misses the mountains back home in northern Georgia, misses the quiet solitude, the stars and the sounds of the forest around him. For a moment he plans his next hunting trip, for a moment he forgets why he's still here. 

His mind drifts back to the last time he leant against this same spot, cigarette burning away at his feet, dropped in haste and completely forgotten about as a hot body pressed itself against Daryl's front, pushing him against the brickwork, hips rolling and tongue licking tracks up his elongated neck, fingers grasping at skin under his shirt, little moans leaving Daryl's lips as the other mans teeth scraped along his sensitive skin, long hair brushing across his chest and made him want to pull his hard cock out there and then.

His smoke's almost gone now and he considers lighting up another before heading back in but decides against it. Pushing away from the wall he renters the now crowded bar and as he does he stalls as he spots the man he's been waiting for, the one who's haunted him for six weeks now. 

Paul 'Jesus' Rovia in all his long haired glory is scanning the room as he walks through the heaving mass of men. Tonight his hair is tied back in a messy top knot which frames his face perfectly making him look like a model with his giant blue eyes, expressive eyebrows and perfect bearded jawline. His pretty mouth already wide in a smile as he catches the eyes of the men around him like he knows he's sex on fucking legs and he'll leave more than one man feeling disappointed tonight. He's wearing a faded Guns N Roses shirt covered by a well fitting black denim jacket, skinny jeans and well kept chucks. He looks like he just stepped out of a rock and roll concert, looks like he just stepped right off the stage and into the crowd and Daryl doesn't miss the disappointed look when the man glances towards Daryl's usual seat at the bar and finds it empty. Maybe things will end differently tonight, Daryl thought. Maybe he'd be the one to take Jesus home again, not one of the sculpted guys, dripping with sweat, sweet eyes and lips full of promise that Jesus has taken home with him every week since Daryl left him after that one Friday night six weeks ago. 

Because although Daryl Dixon doesn't go back for seconds, he thinks, this time, with this man he's ready to go back for a fucking four course feast.


	2. Drowning in drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Direct continuation 
> 
> And Daryl is drunk

He's drunk now and the bar is just beginning to thin out, groups of guys and girls leaving for the next bar, couples heading out into the night to find comfort and pleasure in each other's arms and Daryl's still sitting in the same seat.

"So I told him straight, we need to get another guy in before he leaves, I can't hold this place down by myself on the weekends without help." Martinez is leaning against the bar in front of Daryl, hip cocked and drying off a row of steaming glasses just out from the washer as he chats. Daryl's not really listening anymore because Jesus is sat at a table in his line of vision and he can see that the pretty blonde with chocolate brown eyes and the body of a jock squeezed into a white shirt and tight blue jeans has captured his full attention. He's laughing at some unheard joke and Daryl can see the glint in his eye that holds a possible invitation. The way Jesus leans forward into the guys space and puts his hand on the mans arm tell Daryl that this one might make his way onto Jesus' list tonight.

"You hear me Dixon?" Martinez grabs his attention again and he looks back with vision that's starting to get fuzzy round the edges.

"Nah, what did ya say?" He asks, his tone less scathing than it had been earlier, his mood was just as dark but the liquor Martinez had been supplying him with helped to soften his tongue. Plus he was a nice looking guy, muscles in all the right places, a sweet ass and moans like a bitch whilst he sucks cock. And Daryl's tempted. But not enough.

"Jeez Dixon your next drink is gonna be just a coke. I asked you if you know anyone looking for a bar job on the weekends, Nick's leavin and there's no way I can handle running this shift on my own."

"Reckon if ya stop tryna get in Ma pants all night long ya'd find it easier." He laughed and Martinez joined in, amused at Daryl's uncharacteristic laughter.

"Can't help it man, your just so damned cute when you're drunk." Martinez teased moving back to pour Daryl a coke, no jack this time. He's known the Dixon brothers long enough to know that too much booze can lead to misunderstandings and messy bar fights and there no way he's cleaning up one of those tonight.

"Well aren't you a sexy redneck?" Comes a low purr in Daryl's ear as a hand slides over his shoulders. Daryl whips around already spoiling for a fight only to find Michonne beaming at him flashing her beautiful white teeth and her wide eyes glinting in the bar lights.

"Hey Chonne!" Daryl manages a lop sided smile as he wraps an arm around her and beckons Martinez so she can order a drink. "You're rolling in late ain't ya?"

"Vodka lime please Martinez." She says smiling at the bartender "hey when are you going to fix me up with a pretty waitress in this place?"

"Says they're looking for staff now if ya know anyone." Daryl said, trying hard not to slur his words before gulping down most of the coke in front of him. As he drinks he's noticed that blondie-jock has left Jesus' table and perched himself on the stool next to Daryl and he can't help but scowl at the guy before turning round to scan the room quickly trying see if he can make out where Jesus has gone.

He listens as Blondie-jock orders a gin and juice which Daryl laughs at, so hard he almost falls right off his seat but he's silently glad the guy isn't ordering a shot of tequila, which he knows is Jesus' drink of choice. His man hasn't been to the bar all night, unless he's been heading up each time Daryl's headed out for a smoke. Not that the guy needs to buy his own drinks, Jesus is good looking enough that someone's always willing to plough him full of booze in the hope of earning a kiss from those pretty plump lips.

"What's so funny?" Michonne asked him but Daryl just shrugs it off and tips back the rest of his drink. He can't spot Jesus anywhere and figures he's probably taking a piss, he toys with the idea of heading in for one himself but stops short as he spots none other than Rick Grimes sliding his way through the crowd heading for the bathroom door. He could go, and if Jesus isn't in there he could steal a kiss from Rick maybe he'd get to find out just how perfect Grimes' mouth looks stretched wide on his cock. So he stays put. Just in case.

"Hey Chonne, where's Lizzie?" Daryl asks trying to distract himself from the growing tent in his jeans at the mental images of Rick flashing through his mind like a slide show. "Don't usually see ya here without her dangling off yer arm."

"Lizzie should be half way to her parents in DC by now" Michonne sighs "I kicked her ass out, been clearing all the shit she left in my apartment out most of the evening which is why I'm so late and which is why, Martinez," she calls the bartender over once more "I got some catching up to do!" And she orders herself a couple of shots and another vodka lime before tuning back to Daryl with a forced smile on her face "turns out she's been cheating on my stupid ass for a while now, means Chonne is back on the market and looking to find herself a new drinking partner for the night, any takers?" The smile is large and effortless now as she slings back her first shot.

Daryl grins at her and squeezes her midriff just a little tighter as they start scanning the room and pointing out all the women Michonne might fancy inviting into her bed.

He'd pointed out a busty looking blonde over by the back wall obviously being chatted up by a pretty little pixie looking chick and seemingly looking bored when he noticed the bathroom door opening, a very sweaty Rick Grimes slipping out and to Daryl's dismay he sees that the hot brunette is dragging a very flushed, very kissed out looking Jesus behind him.

He watches as they wind their way through the crowd toward the front doors hand in hand a sinking, sick, churning in his stomach. Pissed at himself for being a coward and not grabbing Jesus and dragging him home himself. For not having the balls to make a move and he's even more pissed knowing that Rick Grimes, sex on fucking legs wrapped up in a body carved by the devil himself is going to get his hands on his beautiful perfect hand crafted by God, aptly named Paul 'Jesus' Rovia. Who just so happened to be the best fucking lay of Daryl's life.

He lay his head on his hands for a moment as he prayed to any God who'd deign to listen that Rick Grimes wasn't the kind of guy to go back for seconds either. He prayed that next week, when he came back to his sad little Friday night routine, that Jesus would be here too and not still in Rick's bed.

He didn't see the glance in his direction as the two men slipped out the door.

Blonde-jock is looking at him again, smiling, coy, twisting his body to face him and daryl starts to think that he's actually not bad looking, nice teeth, nice arms, muscular, wonders whether they're all for show or whether the guy would be able to toss him around in the sack a little. He turns back to Michonne and steals one of her shots, knocking it back before she can protest.

"Think ya need ta take me outta here before I end up doin' something I regret." He motioned his head at blonde-jock and raised his eyebrows to emphasise his point.

Michonne and Martinez both laughed and she said "don't ya mean some ONE?" Before downing the rest of her drinks laying a hand on his arm briefly before whispering in Martinez' ear "gimme one sec and we'll split."

Daryl watched as she headed to the back of the room, he heard Martinez warning blonde-jock off "wouldn't bother if I was you darling, he isn't you're type." As Michonne laid a hand on pixies shoulder, interrupting her failing attempts at flirting with the busty blonde and he chuckles as Michonne leans in for the kill. Pixie didn't have a chance now that this goddess of a woman had stepped into the picture and it wasn't long before his friend headed back to him, napkin in hand, cocky smile on her face, pronounced the blondes name to be Andrea and waved her number in his face.

"That's how you do it Dixon, come on, we'll drink more at my place, I'll give you some pointers if you like." She laughed her cute little ass off at her own joke. As if Daryl Dixon needed help getting laid.

 

Well, maybe this time he might.


	3. Next Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One week later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think guys. I know a few of you have subscribed and left kudos but I'd really appreciate the feedback as this is the first AU I've ever written. 
> 
> I suppose this is kind of a slow burn as Jesus hasn't REALLY been involved yet but he's coming.
> 
> Or he will be ;)

It's 2am and he's just rolled in to his shitty ground floor flat after spending another Friday night on the bar stool that he's pretty sure has his ass print permanently engraved on at this point.

Another Friday night where he hasn't dragged a boy home with him to fuck, another night where he didn't bring Jesus home to worship. Another Friday night of blue balls, too much jack and not enough cock. But this week was different and he doesn't know whether he's happy about it or fucking worried.

At least he hadn't been on his own, Chonne had turned up at his door and offered to be his 'date' for the night, they propped up the bar together, getting lit and laughing all night while they did and he was grateful that he didn't spend the night looking like a sad sack of shit getting wasted by himself while he drowned his sorrows and regret.

He'd been propositioned twice, a skinny guy with ginger hair, hips like a woman and a smile like a predator had bought him drinks for an hour before Michonne finally managed to run him off and a burly kid who looked to be in his early twenties took a fancy to the angel wings on his vest.

But he hadn't been there, the first time since he embarked on this journey of celibacy and alcohol fuelled pining that Jesus hadn't turned up and that's why tonight was different. At least he didn't have to watch him take another beautiful man home to his bed but he spent the night wondering if his man was still tangled up in the sheets, writhing under the cut body of Rick Grimes, having the time of his life while those strong arms held him down, that pretty mouth working over his skin those fucking thighs gripping him tight as he pounded the brunette into the mattress and that thought alone had him drinking jack straight from the bottle never mind the fucking coke.

So he's wasted, sweaty and tired and he thinks he probably should've showered when he got home. He somehow managed to feed his asshole cat and kick her out for the night, strip naked and crawl into his bed hoping to slip into a deep sleep, wake up in the morning and do nothing but nurse his hangover.

But his cock won't leave him alone, thing probably doesn't know what the fucks gone wrong because it's only friend has been his own hand for the last seven fucking weeks now. No warm mouth, hot hand or tight hole to press it into, no hours of attention, by beautiful hands and wet lips just hours of being ignored and left wanting.

So he takes it out now and it doesn't surprise him that it's already hard and pulsing like it knew what was coming, like it hoped that this Friday would be different and it would be cradled in a different palm, not his rough calloused hand with oil stains that he swears he'll die wearing.

And he thinks of different boys while he strokes it, the press of sweet lips gently caressing the skin along his neck and down his collarbones, the bite of harsh teeth on his hips and the brush of breath along his sides. He thinks of how their skin feels under his fingertips as he touches every expanse, how their cocks feel as they press into his tongue and throat, hears their moans as he pictures himself sucking them, stroking them, pulling them apart at their seams.

He's stroking fast and hard now picturing not his hand but one with no scars, no oil, clean fingernails well kept, one with strong fingers that grasp him in just the right way, twisting, pulling, fingers dancing over the tip and spreading his wet down the shaft.

As he spits in his hand he imagines the wet heat to be a mouth with pretty swollen lips, jaw covered in beard burn working along his length, tongue wrapping expertly around as he slips into a throat, he sees long hair falling across a bearded face with big come Fuck me blue eyes and he comes hard,  body convulsing as he spurts, it takes him by surprise and he's painting himself in sticky white streaks before he can react shouting loud enough to wake the neighbours. He comes so hard it makes him dizzy and he's so fucking fucked.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

His head is splitting when he wakes but worse than that he feels like shit, feels empty, lonely which is fucking stupid because he's always been alone, ever since his asshole Pa went N' drank himself to death good fucking riddance, merle locked in the slammer and his mama long turned to dust in the ground.

It's why, he thinks, that he doesn't stay the day after, why he doesn't ever go back for seconds, why he picks up a different guy each time, takes them to fucking paradise then splits at first light. Because they all fuck up, they all take what he's got to give then leave him in the fucking woods wiping his ass on poison oak and feeding himself on bugs and rodents.

 

He checks his phone and isn't surprised to find a message from Martinez.

_03:17am ~{Martinez}~ hey man you get home ok?_

He always texted to make sure Daryl got home ok when he left by himself. Probably hoping he'd give in and ask the guy to come over for a fuck but he never does. Can't blame the guy though. They'd been good together and he'd walked outta Martinez' house with a ice cold beer pressed up against his aching cock. He wasn't expecting the other messages.

_09:45am ~{Martinez}~ wake up you son of a bitch I got a surprise for you. Come to the bar tonight._

 

_10:00am ~{Michonne}~ My head is killing me. Martinez text me, he's got a surprise for you. We're heading back tonight. Meet me at mine at 9 x_

_10:02am ~{Michonne}~ you'll like it ;) x_

 

He doesn't text them back. Not until much later when his brain is safely restored back in his skull and not slowly leaking out of his ears. He spends the afternoon tidying up the flat, picking up the clothes he'd manage to cover just about every surface with in his haste to be rid of them last night. The cat is back and she's not being an asshole so he plays with her for a bit. It's comforting to know that even when he doesn't bring boys home she's still waiting for him, still happy to see him, still happy to piss on his floor if he doesn't feed her quick enough. Asshole. But she's his and he's hers and she's stuck around a lot longer than his Ma ever did.

 

_4:45pm ~{Daryl}~ see ya at 9 - D_

_4:47pm ~{Michonne}~ x_


	4. Saturday nights aren't made for hangovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michonne and him head back to the bar.

_8:55pm ~{Daryl}~ outside, hurry the fuck up._

He's been waiting outside her building for 15 minutes and it's not because he's eager, not because he's wondering what this surprise could be, he doesn't really care about it, probably gonna be some pretty boy Martinez has scouted out to work the bar now that Nick's gone. Still, might be nice to have another face to look at while he's gettin shit faced drunk. Give him something better to look at than Martinez' hungryt eyes and sweet ass as he tries to snag another night in Daryl's bed.

It's because he'd had fun last night, actually had a good time drinking with Chonne laughing it up instead of drowning himself in liquor and dreaming of gettin his dick wet, pining over pretty eyes and plump lips.

They'd been friends for a long time now him and Michonne, she runs the gym, does martial arts, personal training, boxing that sort of shit and she was the one who saw him standing there in the corner that first time he grew some balls and decided to throw some fists in the boxing ring. She took pity on him trying to slink in the corner unnoticed. She was fierce, strong, dangerous and she'd kicked his ass almost every week since.

But they'd never been out drinking before and he doesn't know why he never offered or why she never asked. Probably had more to do with Lizzie than him, now she was outta the picture it seemed like Daryl had gained himself a new drinking partner, one who could keep up and keep him straight, kick his ass if he needed. He liked her, she doesn't take his shit, laughs when he's being an asshole and he's not sure he's ever had a friend who's made him smile as much as she does.

She's also very good at getting rid of all the pretty boys that threw themselves at him too, maybe she'd keep him from doin something he'd regret, or maybe she'd help him get something he really fucking wanted. Or someone.

_9:05pm ~{Daryl}~ leavin without ya in 5_

_9:06pm ~{Michonne}~ coming now._

 

The bar was already crowded when they arrived so they had to take a table instead of his usual bar stool. Michonne headed up for drinks while he settled in and tried to ignore the heaving bodies around him, chatting, dancing, that Saturday night feeling already working its magic on the crowd. She didn't fuck around he noticed when she brought the whole bottle of jack and slammed it down on the table in front of him.

"Tryna get me lit girl?" He chuckled as he poured them both a drink and wasted no time in tipping his back in one go, already ready to feel that buzz that lets him relax. Already ready to wake up tomorrow with another raging hangover.

"Figured tonight we might be celebrating something." She grinned at him before slamming her drink back in one too.

"The fuck are we celebrating for?" He couldn't think of anything in his miserable life right now that warranted a fuckin party. Work was the same, home was the same, his life was always the fuckin same. But maybe she wanted to celebrate getting rid of that cheating ex of hers and gettin herself a bit of freedom now she's gone.

They drank and laughed and watched all the pretty boys lining the walls, the beautiful women sauntering around the dance floor hoping to grab themselves a girl for the night. But he hasn't seen the one person he was hoping to see. Didn't even know whether Jesus came here on any other night than Friday's. He didn't usually come here himself on a Saturday night, usually went to another bar across town. One made for bikers and not boys looking for a good fuck.

An hour later and he's feeling drunk, enjoying himself, laughing as Chonne chats up a beautiful black haired girl with lip rings and a dragon tattoo up her shoulder. He's jealous of the easy way she chats, the way she smiles and her face lights up.

"Bars free, c'mon Dixon your seats gettin lonely." She smirked at him as she stood and wiggled her way to the bar. Daryl watched her ass whilst she walked. Just because he liked boys, men, liked cock, didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the sway of a beautiful woman's ass as she worked the crowd in a dingy bar. Damn that Andrea chick is in for a real treat if she turns up tonight, he thought. And he wondered whether Michonne had called her yet. Told himself to remember to ask.

"Ready for your surprise?" She grinned as he sat his ass down in the seat that had made itself home over the last couple of months. She nodded her head to the other end of the bar and that's when he finally noticed Martinez flitting around behind the counter showing the new guy the ropes. That's when he noticed Martinez' shit eating grin as he caught the guys eye, that's when he noticed the long hair tied in a top knot, strands falling lose with the effort of taking drink orders, big eyes snaring all the boys who came to drink and beautiful smile as the guy flirted like a fuckin pro.

Jesus was the new bar staff, Jesus' bright eyes were filling up the tip jar, Jesus' smile was making every guy at the bar weak at the knees and picturing messy blow jobs and soft kisses.

It was then that Martinez tapped Jesus on the shoulder and sent the guy down the bar to Daryl's end. And Daryl couldn't not look as the guy turned to him, watched his eyes widen, eyebrows raised and couldn't look away as Jesus' tongue darted out for a second to lick those perfect fucking lips. And he couldn't not picture that night they spent together and the wicked things that tongue had done to him. Those narrow hips wiggling that perfect fucking ass around as Jesus sucked his cock like he'd been paid to do it. By the time Jesus came to stand in front of him he felt a flush across his face and his cock was already half hard. The guys eyes had slipped half shut and looked as filled with lust as they had looked when Daryl had been on his knees, Jesus' cock half way down his throat.

 

"Hey Dixon"

 

And Daryl was fucked, so fucking fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who commented on the last chapter, I really do always appreciate the feedback. 
> 
> I know the chapters are short hence why I'm posting one every day as I hate reading fics where the chapters are short but the time between them are long. 
> 
> Kudos to those who guessed that Jesus was the new bar staff! 
> 
> This fic is complete now with 6 chapters in total. I might *might* write more of these two to add as part of a collection but as it stands 6 will be the end.


	5. Bartender, bartender take my ass home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesus works the bar and Daryl works his magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally boys. Finally.

"I'm gonna go dance, come find me later" Michonne whispers in his ear and heads off to the dance floor with a shit eating grin and a wiggle on her hips.

"Don't usually see you here on a Saturday night." Jesus says as he pours a line of shots for the burly guy to Daryl's right, his attention is on his task but Daryl knows the guy is talking to him. And he can see why that tip jar is already almost full, Jesus' eyes are wide pools that drag you in and drown you, his lips, plump and wet and begging to be kissed, nimble hands and strong forearms make him want to run his fingers along the skin and watch goosebumps spread across it. It takes all his willpower not to lean over the bar, grip the guys neck and pull him in for a kiss that would make his knees turn to liquid and his cock turn to rigid stone.

"Nah" He shrugs "Usually over The Highlander Saturday's." Christ he looks good, clean white shirt with buttons undone enough to show off a bare chest and the hint of muscles that Daryl remembers well enough, sleeves rolled back, brown leather cuffs around his wrists. Tight navy jeans that hug his ass in all the right places and dirty work boots that Daryl wants so badly on his bedroom floor. He leans in when he's done handing over the drinks and fuck he smells good too, he wants to wake up covered in Jesus' cologne and smell it on his sheets for days.

"Hmmm" he purrs smiling his beautiful wide smile that shows off straight white teeth and makes his eyes look sleepy and fucked out. "The biker bar? Yeah I can totally see you there." He smirks.

"Didn't know ya worked a bar" Daryl said tipping back the last of his drink, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and holding the glass out for Jesus to take.

"One of my many talents" he said with a wink that made Daryl smirk, because he's remembering quite a few of those talents and his cock is starting to fill up at the memory. "Jack and coke right?"

"Mhm" Daryl grunts but he's smiling because the guy remembers his drink of choice, and he's looking, eyes darting back to Daryl as he continues working the bar and serving drinks, lips spread in a smile that's not just for show. Daryl's forgotten all about Michonne, completely captured by the way Jesus moves, how he flashes his teeth, wipes the sweat off his brow and he can't help the quick thought that he'd love to lick the drops right off the guys body.

Once again he gains some interest from a few guys but manages to brush them off quick enough. One guy though, Aaron his name was, seemed decent, friendly and obviously not looking to get laid. They chatted a while, turns out the guy was new to Atlanta and looking for work. Even more interesting was Aaron was a mechanic too, just starting out so Daryl told him to come along to the shop and he'd see about hooking him up with a job. Seems like he'd made himself another new friend, figured life was starting to look that little bit brighter tonight.

It's not long before Jesus lines up two shot glasses in front of him and fills them full of tequila, salt and lime make an appearance and Daryl wants to lay the guy down, spread him out along the bar and take the shot right off his fucking body.

"Ya allowed ta drink on the job?" He teases with a grin, he's definitely fuzzy round the edges and he knows that Jesus can see he's flirting, the whole fucking room seems to have cottoned on to the two of them undressing each other with their eyes and wishing it were with their teeth.

"Well" he grins "I'm allowed one on shift, only one. But I get off in half an hour." The way he says it make Daryl's dick twitch, if he had anything to do with it Jesus would sure as hell be getting off in half an hour, they both would. They do their shots and Daryl heads out for a smoke making sure Jesus is watching his ass as he moves towards the back and heads out to the alley.

Michonne catches up with him then and smiles widely as she takes his smoke out of his hand and takes a deep drag herself. He feels like a shit friend for ignoring her tonight but she seems to be enjoying herself without him.

"So, like your surprise?" She smirks exhaling a cloud of smoke into the alley.

Daryl laughs and snatches the cigarette back from her fingertips "depends." He huffs.

"Ah come on Daryl, you been pining over this guy for weeks now, never seen you this hung up on a guy before." She says seriously, worry written across her face. And she's right, he's never wanted a guy for more than one night, never passed up the opportunity of a fuck because all he could see was blue eyes and long hair.

He takes another deep drag and blows out a trail of smoke rings that fill the space between them. "Depends whether he lets me take him home or not." He grumbles.

"There's no way your not taking that boy home Tonight Dixon, the guy only has eyes for your grumpy ass." She laughs again then turns on her heels and waltzes back into the bar leaving him in the dark to once again gaze up at the starless sky and ponder his next move. There's no way in hell he's letting Jesus go home with anyone but him tonight, doesn't matter how many pretty boys have tried to chat the guy up tonight. Tonight Jesus belongs to Daryl. If he's lucky, Jesus will belong to Daryl for a hell of a lot longer than just one night.

He chucks his smoke into the darkness and takes a moment to ruff up his hair, straighten his shirt and undoes one more button before heading back in and taking his seat.

He orders another drink and promises himself it'll be the last, anymore and he'd be waking up alone and hanging rather than tangled up in sheets and sweaty limbs and he knows which one he'd rather. Just has to ask the question. Just has to grow the balls to drag the guys ass outta this place the minute his shift ends.

"So you taking any of these guys home tonight Dixon?" The man asks as calmly as if he were asking where Daryl brought his shoes from. "Haven't seen you hook up in a while."

No turning back now, he thinks as he downs his drink and leans in closer. "Nah, ain't taking none of these," he waves behind him indicating the room "boys home, got my eyes on somethin special." He makes sure that Jesus sees that he's the only guy Daryl's looking at, raises an eyebrow and licks his lip. "Ya in?" He asks pointedly.

"Yeah I'm in," And the look on the guys face tells Daryl that Jesus is gonna eat him alive as soon as they get back to his shitty flat, "I'm so fucking in Dixon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost at the end guys!
> 
> Also the highlander is an actual bar in Atlanta. Looks pretty cool. Looks like my kinda place.


	6. You've been driving me crazy for weeks.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys make it back to Daryl's place. 
> 
>  
> 
> And he kicks the asshole cat out.

How the fuck they'd managed to make it back to his place without ripping each other's clothes off Daryl will never know. They'd walked back, Jesus sipping from the bottle of tequila he'd bought from the bar before leaving and Daryl watched every gulp the guy took, marvelled at how his lips looked spread around the bottle neck and how his throat bobbed as the liquid fire poured into his stomach. Daryl couldn't stop imagining those lips spread around his cock and not cold glass, Jesus' throat contracting around his come and not tequila. He resisted the urge to rub himself through his jeans, not wanting to draw attention to how hard his cock already was.

He nearly threw the guy up against a fucking building and ripped his clothes off but managed to get home and let the cat out before letting the fire spread from his cock to the rest of him.

As soon as the door closed behind them Jesus had him pinned up against the wall, clawing at his vest and dropping it to the floor. Lips sucking deep bruises into Daryl's flesh across his neck and he let his head fall back against the thin plasterboard, his hands grabbed hold of Jesus' beltloops and pulled him close as he rolled his hips against the man feeling him just as hard as he was.

He pushed against Jesus' chest and pawed at his shirt, all but ripping it off the mans body in his haste to have hands on skin. He let his palms roam over the guys smooth shoulders as Jesus nipped at the skin under Daryl's jaw making him tremble. He raised his hands upwards to grasp the back of Jesus' neck with one hand, with the other he gripped Jesus' top knot, pulled on the hair tie letting the long hair loose to tumble down over the mans bare shoulders and sucked in a deep breath of the woodsy shampoo he'd used. He fisted a hand in the hair at the base of his skull and pulled, drawing Jesus' head back enough so he could capture those plump lips between his teeth, he groaned at the gasp that escaped from Jesus' mouth, the way his eyes looked with their blown pupils and heavy lids.

He let Jesus strip him of his own shirt and he kicked off his boots as the man licked across his collar bones, grabbed hold of his ass and rutted against him. The speed in which they moved made Daryl light headed but he needed more, more skin, more heat. He fumbled with his own belt buckle and laughed as he watched Jesus hurry to get his jeans unbuttoned. They had no chance of slowing things down now, they were both desperate, weeks of waiting for this, of watching each other and wanting each other.

They were both naked, Daryl still pinned to the wall with Jesus thrusting against him, it felt so fucking good that he didn't even care about sex, just having this man pressed up against him, sharing breath and sweat, swallowing down the little moans that came every time Daryl nipped at his lips and his cock rubbing against Daryl's making him want to come so fucking badly.

And he's suddenly glad that he fucked his own fist in a drunken haze last night because he knew wholeheartedly that if he hadn't, he would've already come all over Jesus' pretty tanned skin already.

"Bedroom" he growled into Jesus' ear, his hands were on his ass pulling him so close, close enough for their cocks to be rubbing along one another, nerves firing with every roll of hips. But they didn't move. Jesus had one hand on Daryl's ass, finger nails digging deep into the flesh there, the other arm wrapped around his back and hand fisted in the hair at the base of Daryl's neck, lips still sucking on collarbones, they were both panting so loud it sounded like they were actually fucking.

"Can't" Jesus moaned into his skin and thrust against him so hard Daryl's head slammed back against the wall and his cock throbbed hard enough to hurt. "You can fuck me later." He groaned as his rutting increased in speed.

He realised he was so close that there wasn't a hope in hell he'd be fucking Jesus right now, he was moments away from coming all over the man rutting against him and he now knew that he wasn't the only one.

"Feels so fucking good!" Daryl groaned out releasing Jesus' ass with one hand, bringing it to the back of his neck and once again fisting his hair, he started moving his own hips then, matching him thrust for thrust as they frotted against one another, furiously chasing their release like a couple of teenagers getting their rocks off with a guy for the first time.

But as Daryl felt Jesus tense against him moaning loud, muscles twitching and cock pulsing he didn't give a fuck what they both looked like. He held Jesus even closer and continued thrusting against him even as the guy threw his head back and cried out, cock spurting hot streaks of come that covered Daryl's stomach.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck!" He cried out as his muscles spasmed, knees turning to jelly under Daryl's hands. And Daryl took that moment to dig his fingernails into the tight ass under his hand, pull back on Jesus' hair once more and brought their lips to kiss, his tongue forcing entry into that pretty fucking mouth, he felt Jesus' come trickle over his cock and with a final thrust against the now sticky, slippery, still hard flesh of Jesus dick he finally felt his own orgasm shoot through him, his come jetting out to cover them both and mingle with Jesus' already drying seed.

They held each other close as their muscles continued to jerk with the aftershocks of such an intense orgasm, their breathing laboured like they had been held underwater almost to the point of drowning. Sweat coated them both and made their hair slick and muscles slippery.

"Fuckin' hell Paul, that was..." Daryl groaned and Jesus' head pulled back to look him right in the eye, a giant grin across his flushed face.

"I like that." He grinned but pulled away, reached down for his underwear, wiped some of the come still dripping across his stomach, grabbed up his jeans and and started to pull them on.

"What?" Daryl asked as he similarly reached for his own.

"Like it when you call me Paul, sounds good." He sat himself on the couch, shirtless, jeans unbuttoned, bare feet on the wooden floorboards, hair wild and tangled, lips red, swollen and glistening, eyes half shut. He looked even better than he had when Daryl first spotted him behind the bar tonight. "I'm sorry, didn't mean that to happen so fast but you've been driving me crazy all night." He laughed, hint of embarrassment across his face.

Daryl chuckled then "yer been driving me crazy for weeks, surprised I made it outta the fuckin parking lot without bustin' a nut."

He walked across the floor to he kitchen listening to Jesus laugh before calling back "Don't normally do this." He said as he rummaged through the cupboard for two shot glasses. "Never go back more than once." He sat the glasses down on the coffee table and poured the tequila.

"So why me?" Jesus asked as he tipped his shot back and grimaced. Daryl chuckled before slamming his back too and promising himself that the next one he'd be sucking out of Jesus' belly button.

"Prettiest fucking guy I think I've ever met." He sat down on the couch beside him and ran a hand along Jesus' thigh "Couldn't stop thinking bout ya, like bein' around ya. Been watching ya take all these guys home and hoping it'd be me again."

Jesus' hand roamed up the bare skin along Daryl's forearm and along his bicep.

"I only took them home because I figured you'd had your fill. You told me you didn't ever go back for seconds." Daryl shivered and let his eyes droop closed as Jesus leaned in and lips made contact with his shoulder, breath tickling across his skin as he spoke "made it clear it was a one time thing."

"Hmmmmmm" Daryl purred turned his body towards Jesus', his hand travelling to the mans hips and gripping harder than was entirely necessary. "Had ta make ya an exception." He growled, voice low and rumbling in Jesus' ear. "Don't want this ta be a one time thing either. Don't wanna see ya takin anyone else home but me."

"You askin me out Dixon?" Jesus said in surprise as he pulled away to hold Daryl at arms length to take in the way Daryl looked, wide eyed, honest and just a hint of fear across his face.

"Yeah, yeah I am." He replied suddenly panicked that Jesus would say no, that the guy who had haunted his life for almost two months, the one who had an endless stream of beautiful men lining up to spend a night in his bed might only want Daryl for one more night, might only want him for a regular fuck and nothing more.

He chewed on his lip, had no control over the way his feet shuffled nervously as he stared into those deep blue eyes and waited.

"Daryl Dixon himself wanting me to be his boyfriend? That's what you want right?" His tone was teasing and Daryl couldn't make out whether the guy was being playful or patronising. Before he had time to get offended or move away Jesus' lips caught his in a kiss that made Daryl melt. It was urgent but sweet, eager but dare he think it? Tender?

"Dunno how glad I am to hear that Daryl." He whispered against Daryl's lips.

"That a yes?" Daryl mumbled as he continued kissing the mans wet lips and running his wide palms over Jesus' shoulders, his arms wrapped around his torso holding the man close.

"Yes, that's definitely a yes."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's read this fic, either as I've posted or in the future.  
> Would love to hear whether you enjoyed it. 
> 
>  
> 
> I've set this up so I can add more to it at a later date, I already have a pretty good idea where their first date would be!


End file.
